Rethinking Rethink Avenue
by nico420
Summary: Kevin visits the old cul-de-sac and reminisces about his childhood and what it was actually like.


**I do not own Ed, Edd n Eddy or any of the following characters.**

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Kevin didn't really _hate_ the dorks. In fact, he'd rarely used that term as an insult; it was more like a term of endearment.

It was just that he was insecure. He was too caught up in trying to be cool. Much like Eddy, himself.

He had a lot in common with Eddy. Maybe, that's why they were so competitive against each other.

They were both insecure and desperate for attention, but acted like they were full of themselves. They both tried to be cool, only Kevin had the upper-hand on that one; so he'd lord it over Eddy and the rest of the world, pretending he was better than everyone else, so that he would feel better about himself. (At the end of the day, he only felt worse.) They both had the same sardonic sense of humor and laughed at others' misfortunes. Always laughing, hysterically, together; while everyone else was silent.

In those moments—just the two of them—he felt like they were real friends.

It was for their similarites, not their differences, that Kevin both hated Eddy and had a soft spot for him.

The other children probably couldn't tell the difference—probably not even Ed or Double D—but they were rarely serious when they went back and forth, at each other. Oh, they would _sound _serious—they'd tried their best to—but they weren't.

Kevin would call the Eds dorks, and Eddy would yell at him. Kevin would act cool and calm, like he didn't care whether they were here or there, and Eddy would act cocky or try to embarrass him in front of the people who'd deemed he was cool, even though many of them secretly didn't like him. Half of the time, you could see the smiles right on their faces, if anyone had been paying attention. They would compete against each other, at everything. They were like friendly rivals.

But Kevin couldn't do that—be friends. He couldn't drop his act and his ego and his desperation to be cool, for real friends who'd accept him for who he was.

Why couldn't he do that?

Maybe, it's because he couldn't accept himself.

He would say things like, "Who invited them?" Or, "About time the dorks showed up." He'd thank them, sarcastically, for "dorking up" another, otherwise, boring event. But behind the sarcasm, he _was_ thankful; because it was true: things were always dull unless the dorks were around. Even—no, _especially_—if they were causing mischief.

Everyone felt this way. It wasn't just Kevin.

Each Ed had a special something of their own. A strong presence that stood out, not just against a crowd, but against each others'. They brought this presence—this combination of presences—everywhere, they went. They brought fun and life to an otherwise boring cul-de-sac.

Double D built all kinds of rides and invented all kinds of contraptions. They preformed services and put on shows. They gave them the best summers of their lives; the best childhoods they could ask for. The best childhoods _any_ kid could ask for. The only way they would have been able to enjoy it more, was if they were able to get over themselves.

All of them.

Kevin and his insecurity. Nazz and her vanity. Sarah and her anger. Jimmy and his self-pity. Jonny and his awkwardness; his inability to communicate with people, directly. Rolf and his precious old country; his inability to comprehend the fact that these were the best years of his life—of all their lives—right here, in this cul-de-sac. Better, to be where your friends are. To live in the present moment and enjoy it before it passes. (Kevin wishes he could do that now; but here he is, living in the past.)

The Eds, too.

Eddy had to get over all the same things Kevin did. Maybe, more. He shouldn't have tried to live up to his brother's image—a man that was far below him. He shouldn't have taken everything out on his best friends. He shouldn't have been so greedy (money isn't something a kid should be worried about). He shouldn't have been so angry; so miserable; so impatient. He should have "stopped and smelled the roses." (Well, they all should have.) He should have appreciated his friends and the time he was spending with them.

Double D always had problems (too many of them). Some of them, he was born with (like his OCD—his anxiety—his germaphobia). But that thing with his parents... The fact that they were never around... I know how it sounds, but he shouldn't have cared as much as he did. Not when they didn't care about him as much as _they_ should have. Not when he had a family like the Eds.

Even, Ed. He was the only one who enjoyed himself _fully _and was able to let go—he didn't have a care in the world—but maybe he should have been a little more present; a little more connected to reality and his friends, while they were standing right there beside him. Then he would be able to remember them better in his old age. His memory was bad enough, as it was.

God, Kevin wishes he could go back to that, though.

Back to jawbreakers, and scams, and riding his bike all day long; and Nazz. He wishes he could go back there—to the _old_ cul-de-sac—_their_ cul-de-sac—with the knowledge he has now.

Well, maybe not all of it.

He wonders where Nazz _is._ He wonders what she's doing. How much her face has changed. What she's been doing with her life all these years.

This place looks so dead now. It looks so dead without her. Without Jonny's annoying voice and crazy antics. Without Rolf's constant questions, Sarah's loud mouth, and Jimmy's frilliness. Without Eddy's grating voice, Ed's horse play, and Double D's constant chattering. Without their scams. Even without the Kankers, who at least provided some sort of amusement by torturing the Eds.

Everything's falling apart now. Disheveled.

Rethink Avenue does not look the same, in front of him, as it does in his mind.

Peach Creek looks like a ghost town.

Kevin commits this scene to memory the best that he can; for he has learned that the present moment is the most valuable thing you can cherish. Moments pass by in the blink of an eye, and if you're unable to cherish them at present, you won't be able to cherish them as past.

If he'd been able to cherish his childhood—if he'd have known it would turn out like this—he would have certainly done things, differently. He certainly wouldn't have any regrets.

Finally, he turns his back to the only place he wants to go back _to._

But it's not the same now. Nothing's the same now. And living here would only remind him of that.


End file.
